


Memories Are Made of This

by analineblue



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Time, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-04
Updated: 2009-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue/pseuds/analineblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Rodney are stranded on a hostile planet - confessions happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Are Made of This

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to hitome_bore for the beta.

It was supposed to have been a quick recon mission, nothing out of the ordinary, maybe a little trading with the natives, but somehow, as usual, things didn’t quite work out as planned. Nothing reminds Rodney more of this fact than the constant pressure of John’s body at his side, heavy and hurting and bleeding—not at all the way things were supposed to go. 

He’s been dragging the both of them through these godforsaken woods for what feels like hours now. It’s quickly approaching dark, the woods are becoming more and more impenetrable the further they go, and as it turns out, they’ve discovered firsthand that M4X-871 actually gets pretty chilly after the sun goes down. 

Teyla and Ronon have been MIA for hours, and he and John left their radios, their weapons, and anything else that might be useful for survival out in the woods at night back at the camp. 

At least they’d managed to escape their captors, but unfortunately not without a little friendly fire on their way out of the settlement. John keeps telling him that the bullets just grazed him, but Rodney saw him go down, so he’s not entirely convinced by the story. 

All in all, Rodney figures that this will probably go down as one of their less than successful missions, to say the least. Thank god they didn’t think it was necessary to cloak the jumper on their way in, or they’d really be screwed. 

“We’re almost there, Rodney,” John says for about the hundredth time, despite the fact that Rodney is sure they’re walking in circles.

“We are _not_ almost there, we’re completely lost and you’re, you’re—"

“I’m fine,” John says confidently, and his voice is calm, but a little strained. 

“Well, sorry, you don’t look fine; you look terrible,” Rodney snaps. “And you’re bleeding all over my jacket.”

John opens his mouth to retort, and then stops suddenly. He stops walking too, leaning heavily on Rodney’s shoulder, as if he’s trying to regain his equilibrium. 

“What? John? What is it?” Rodney asks shrilly, the sound of far-off gunfire causing him to wince, even though he knows that they’re far enough from the settlement to really be in any particular danger anymore.

“I’m fine,” John assures him, unconvincingly. “Just tired. Maybe we should take a break.” 

Rodney stares at him for a second, bewildered. “But it’s getting dark, and you just said we couldn’t afford to—” 

“Oh… Okay, John?” he’s saying in the next breath though, because John’s knees are already buckling, pulling Rodney down with him.

**

When John finally comes to, Rodney feels like he’s been shaking him for forever, the panic in his chest having expanded exponentially during what couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds, but felt like much, much longer.

“Jesus Christ, you are so not okay,” Rodney says, after John finally opens his eyes. He stares down at him, his eyes wide, trying to reason out some kind of next step. “Oh god, what are we going to do, we don’t even—”

“Relax,” John says, and his voice is deliberate and calm, though he winces as he manages to drag himself into a sitting position. “Teyla and Ronon will—”

“Will _what_?”

“ _Find_ us. They’re not going to just abandon us out here.”

“And how will they find us? We have no radios. We have no tracking devices on us of any kind. _We_ don’t even know where we are! How—"

“Rodney. Seriously, relax.”

“No, no, I don’t think I will. How can I relax when you can barely walk, and then you _pass out_ , and I’m somehow supposed to—wait.” Rodney wills himself to concentrate, to focus. John’s injured. He’s bleeding. He’s—oh god—he’s probably in pain. “Tell me what I should do about your wounds. You’re bleeding a lot.” He stares at John, feeling a little lost. “That’s probably bad, right?”

Rodney listens with as much attention as he can manage as John instructs him on how to clean and redress the wound in his side, and the one on his arm. After Rodney finishes up, John just stares forward though, and for a second, Rodney is convinced the other man is going to pass out again. He has to say his name three times before John finally looks at him. 

“Jesus Christ, John, I can’t take much more of this. Can you at least tell me if you’re okay? If I did something wrong?”

John clears his throat, blinks. “You did fine. Perfect.” He moves his arm, apparently for emphasis. “Feels great.”

“Right. Look, I really, really don’t know what to—”

“Just keep talking, Rodney, okay?”

“What?”

“Talk to me. Tell me a story. Distract me a little.”

“A story? I…” Rodney looks at him helplessly. 

“Come on, Rodney,” John drawls. “You must have a million stories that you’re just dying to tell me, right?”

And so Rodney sighs, and starts to talk, because he really doesn’t know what else to do, and because thankfully talking is what he does best sometimes, especially when he’s freaking out within an inch of his life. 

**

His first story involves his cat, for some reason, and the whole thing seems really, really insanely boring, even to him, but he actually has John smiling by the end, so he figures he must be doing something right. Or maybe John just has a soft spot for cats? That seems unlikely though, so in an attempt to come up with another exciting and hopefully less-lame topic, he starts talking about Sam, and then the rest of the team on SG-1, and then eventually comes around to admitting how much they pale in comparison to the team on Atlantis, to how much happier he is now, and so on and so forth. 

He pauses to take a breath, eventually, and John asks, matter-of-factly, “You miss her?” 

“Who? Sam?” 

John nods. “Sounds like she was quite a match for you.”

Rodney rolls his eyes. “Didn’t I just say that I’m happier on Atlantis?”

“Rodney, come on.”

“Okay, okay, maybe I did at first. But that was a long time ago. I don’t anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I have… our team now. Ronon, Teyla, Elizabeth, Carson.” He clears his throat. “You. I have you.” 

John chuckles a little, wincing. “Glad to see I made the cut.”

“You have no idea,” Rodney says softly, surprising himself. 

“Try me.” 

Rodney stares at John. John’s face is, of course, exuding all the calm it usually does, despite what Rodney has to keep reminding himself is a very, very dire situation. Still, he probably won’t have this chance again, and he’d like to think that he’s not stupid enough to pass up _every_ opportunity thrown at him when it comes to John. 

“Well, I, uh… I may have — at one point — had a bit of a crush on you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Okay, okay, so it was a big, huge monster of a crush, okay? Happy?”

“Huh. You don’t say.” John smiles a little, then raises his eyebrows. “So what happened?”

“What?”

“Well, I figure I must have done something pretty bad to kill that big of a crush, right?” 

“Not exactly?” Rodney says quickly, because he really can’t lie about this, it turns out.

“And that means…?” John drags out that last word slowly, and suddenly Rodney feels all the conviction he had to _never tell John ever ever ever_ disappear somewhere in between the dark questioning of John’s eyes and the way the heat from John’s body next to him has been slowly creeping up his side, warming everything from his thighs up to his shoulder. 

“ _Rodney_ …” John warns, and Rodney knows he’s completely defeated. 

He lets out a breath, reminds himself to breathe again, and says, without meeting John’s eyes, “You see, I, uh… Well, I suppose I might still have a bit of one?”

This time, John is silent, and from his face, Rodney knows that his mind is working double-time — he’s thinking, mulling this over, probably trying to figure out the best way to let Rodney down easily — and that’s okay, that’s to be expected, but when John grabs his hand, Rodney feels his heart start to hammer in his chest, and then John starts running his thumb over his palm, teasing him, telling Rodney how soft his hands are, as he rubs his callused fingers over Rodney’s smooth skin, and Rodney wonders if he’ll ever breathe again, because for a second he really can’t remember how.

“John, oh… John.” Rodney is embarrassed by how desperate his voice sounds, willing John to stop, and to _never stop ever, ever again_ in the same breath.

“What?” John says softly, and his eyes meet Rodney’s for a moment — even in the darkness Rodney can tell when that gaze is fixed on him.

“You have no idea how this makes me feel. You don’t…” Rodney stops. “Wait, you do. You know exactly how crazy this is driving me, don’t you.”

“Well, you did just admit that you have a crush on me.” 

And then Rodney is cursing because this is so not right, this is… They’re in a really dangerous position here, alone in the middle of nowhere, with no weapons, and John has been shot — John is bleeding. He’s delirious, that’s all it is. This isn’t supposed to be about him, or his stupid feelings for John anyway. This is about them getting out of this alive. About Teyla and Ronon radioing for back-up, somehow, and finding them, and Carson treating John’s wounds and John smiling and making some silly comment about something or other while he lies there in the infirmary, completely out of harm’s way, miles away from these woods, from these wounds that won’t stop bleeding. Rodney has never seen John injured like this before, has never really known John to depend on him so completely. It’s terrifying, actually, and he really just wants this part to be over, wants John to be okay, _needs_ John to be okay. He’s no good at this role-reversal stuff. Rodney protects the galaxy, but John protects _him_ , that’s always how it’s been, and that’s really how Rodney would like it to stay. 

And then the words are pouring out; he can’t stop them. For all he knows this could be his last chance. For all he knows, they’ll never make it out of these woods, never make it back to Atlantis, or Earth… And then it’s as if the lid, the airtight lid that’s been holding everything inside of him for the past two years has just popped off into the darkness, leaving whatever is left of Rodney’s heart to just pour out at John’s feet.

“Okay, so maybe it’s a little more than a crush,” he admits, and his voice is soft and urgent at the same time. “This thing, for you, it’s… it’s more than that. Maybe I’m in love with you.” Rodney pauses, nods to himself. “I am, okay. I’m in love with you, John, because you’re a really, really amazing person, and so you really, really need to be okay right now. We need to be okay. We need to get out of here.”

So there, he’d said it. Wasn’t nearly as hard as it should have been either, but he could probably blame that on the panic, and the adrenaline and possibly on the lack of sleep. 

Oh god. He’d _said_ it. All of it. It finally registers the second time, and then he can feel his heart racing, and his breath shorting out—the beginnings of a panic attack, which is so, _so_ not what they need right now. 

And then John shifts next to him, presses his cheek against Rodney’s shoulder for a moment, and squeezes Rodney’s hand. Rodney had forgotten for a moment that he was still holding it. 

“Thanks, Rodney.” And by his voice Rodney can tell that John’s smiling, that silly, adorable, stupid, lopsided, completely disarming smile. 

“What? What’s funny? You think it’s funny that I—"

Another squeeze of his hand causes Rodney’s mouth to snap closed. He can feel John shake his head. 

“No. Not funny. Not at all.” 

“Oh. Um. Well…”

“Keep talking, Rodney. We need to stay awake, remember.”

“Right,” Rodney says, but for the life of him, he can’t think of anything else to say. 

“ _Rodney…_ ”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just that, you know, suddenly admitting my feelings to someone generally makes me a little, uh-"

“Tongue-tied?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Rodney snaps.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How _long_ have you felt this way?” John asks calmly, waiting.

“Oh, well.” He thinks for a moment, happy to have a legitimate, tangible question to answer. “Well, at first I didn’t want anything to do with you, of course. I hate military guys, you know that, but then, I don’t know, the first time you came down to the lab, you just… You listened to me, you know? I noticed that right away, and I couldn’t figure it out. At first I thought you had some ulterior motive or something, but… You’re really smart, John. And you always ask the right questions. You understand what I’m talking about half the time, which is really impressive for someone without an advanced science degree, and even if no one else realizes it, I did. And so then that got me thinking that there was probably more to you than I’d taken from my first impression, and, uh… I don’t usually take that much of an interest in people at all — most of the people I’ve dated in the past, well, they’ve come to me — so this was, you… You were very interesting to me.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“And then the more time I spent with you, the more I realized that you were pretty much the exact opposite of my first impression. You’re not a typical military guy at all, you… think. A lot. Did I mention how smart you are? You’re smart in ways that I’m really stupid. And that just made me want to get to know you. So I started watching you, and listening to you, and the longer I watched and the longer I listened, the more I realized how much I couldn’t stop, and i…if we spent an hour together, off-world, or in the mess hall, or if I managed to corner you and talk you into a chess game, or wherever I saw you, however much time it was… It was never enough, I just wanted more. I wanted to understand you. I still do. Because you’re this amazing fighter, and at the same time you have this amazing mind — you can reason us out of any situation. When I would just panic, you’re so calm and so collected, but sometimes when I look at you, despite all that, I think I see something else? Something underneath all of that strength, and I really, really want to find out what that is. And I know — I mean, I’m pretty sure — that you don’t think about me _like that,_ so it’s not like I’m honestly thinking this will go anywhere or anything, but I don’t know, maybe at least getting this out in the open will clear some of the tension I’m always feeling around you?” Rodney pauses. “Oh god, did I just say all of that out loud?”

John laughs. “Sometimes I think you’re too smart for your own good, Rodney.”

“Thanks,” Rodney says, bristling a little. “Thanks for reminding me. I sure haven’t heard _that_ one before.” 

And suddenly, Rodney can feel the cold and the damp of the ground underneath him, and he remembers that John is injured, and also, he might add, John is a _man_ , a _straight_ man, Rodney is too, for that matter, but somehow, he’s just admitted to being in love with him. His best friend. The military leader of Atlantis. He wonders, soberly, if John will ever forgive him for this. He did pretty much order him to talk though, and John does technically outrank him, so at the very least, he was just following orders, right? Rodney has a brief, insane thought that maybe he can just explain his way out of this, say he was kidding, making it all up for John’s benefit, to get them out of here. As if he could ever pull that off. He’s never been much of an actor. 

“So basically,” John asks nonchalantly, in the tone of voice he uses on Rodney when he’s trying his very hardest to placate him, something that incidentally, Rodney hates, “you’re saying you’ve had this thing for me for what, a few months? A year?”

Rodney shakes his head, feeling reality and several thousand of his normally functioning defense mechanisms kick in, just a little too late. “I’m not having this conversation with you. If you want to make fun of me, or kick me off the team, or whatever, you can do it after we’re out of here.”

“Rodney—"

“Sorry, _colonel_. I’m not playing along.”

“I’m just trying to figure out which one of us has been hiding their feelings longer, that’s all,” John says calmly. “You’re not going to like this, but I think I win.”

“You—” Rodney opens his mouth, closes it again. “Wait. What?”

“I kind of fell for you at first sight, Rodney, so I think I win.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. You—”

“Rodney,” John says softly, and Rodney can feel it all the way down his spine when John speaks his name like this, low and serious. “I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

Rodney takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I, uh… I wouldn’t think you would. It’s pretty important. I mean, at least to me, it’s pretty important. I don’t know, for you, maybe it’s—"

“For me too,” John says, and for a moment Rodney forgets that they’re out in the middle of nowhere, abandoned on a hostile planet for god knows how much longer. 

For a moment, everything is wonderful, because he and John are on the same page, and something is _happening_ , and it feels so good, and Rodney wants nothing more than to just hold onto this, hold onto this moment, where John has just admitted to _falling_ for him, and to having that be important, and not just something they’re going to throw away, and it’s really altogether kind of amazing—he’s not sure if he could let this moment go even if he wanted to.

And then he looks down at John, and he can see the blood seeping through the dressing he’s just redone, can see the paleness of John’s face, and the sweat beading on John’s brow, can feel that John is shivering next to him, probably due to factors other than just the cold, and his priorities do a sudden shift, just like that. 

He has to get them out of here. 

He chokes off a million sentences, things he wants to say to John, about how much he means to him, about how strongly he feels, now that he can, because right now, he just _knows_ —that he has to get them out of here, that this is the most important thing. He swallows back his fear, his insecurity, the insane, giddy realization that this might actually work out with John, all of it. 

“So I’m uh, I’m going to try to make it to the jumper, okay? Then I’m going to come back for you.”

It’s just about the scariest thing in the world to Rodney, the prospect of leaving John out here, alone, without a weapon, when he’s wounded like this, but Rodney knows it’s really the only option available to them right now. He knows that they can’t wait any longer, that John needs Carson. He knows too that they’re far enough away from the settlement that the possibility of anyone finding John now is slim. And he can fly the jumper. He’s done it before. He can do this. 

“You don’t have to do that. Ronon and Teyla will find us,” John says, but he doesn’t really argue, which somehow sets the fear that Rodney feels in every inch of his body on high alert. 

“You don’t know that. And you don’t know when they’ll get here even if they do manage to somehow track us down. And I, well… I can’t risk losing you.” Rodney is appalled at the way his voice chokes off on those words. 

John is silent.

“Nothing makes sense without you, John,” Rodney says, promptly losing whatever sense of calm he thought he may have had a second ago. “And so I can’t risk losing you just because the idea of stumbling through these woods to the jumper alone and then flying back here scares the hell out of me. I can’t. I have to go. You’re bleeding, you’re… I have to do this.”

Rodney realizes that he’s not making sense—maybe he’s a little delirious too, it’s been at least 36 hours since they landed here after all, and he’s spent nearly all that time being terrified, first because they were captured, and then because of John, and now...

He summons all his courage, and tries to call up some of that inner peace that Teyla is always talking about him needing so badly. “I’ll be right back. Just wait for me, okay?”

“You’re sure you can—”

“Hello? Who’s the genius here? I think I can find my way back to this lousy spot in the woods, okay?” 

“I was going to say fly the jumper without freaking out, but okay,” John agrees, nodding. 

Rodney takes a deep breath, and forces his voice steady. “Stay awake. Wait for me.”

“Will do.” 

Rodney ignores the way his heart feels as if it’s being ripped from his chest as he turns and walks off into the woods. 

After about thirty seconds he turns around, takes off his jacket, walks back to where he’s left John leaning against a large oak-looking tree, and hands it to him, shivering a little.

“What about you?” John asks, craning his head upwards, and Rodney has to concentrate really, really hard not to get lost in the darkness of John’s eyes, the tilt of his head, the shape of his lips. 

“I’m— I’ll be,” Rodney waves his hand in front of him for emphasis, “fine. Just try not to freeze to death before I get back, okay?”

And before John can say anything else, Rodney turns again and takes off into the woods. 

**

“So how did you manage to fly the jumper back to where I was anyway?” John says, staring up at Rodney from his bed in the infirmary, where Carson has just spent the last hour or so treating his wounds and, hopefully, making him okay again. “Last I’d checked we were well beyond lost.”

“You may have been lost, colonel, but I happen to have a fully functional sense of direction, thank you very much.” 

Teyla and Ronon exchange glances, then smile. 

“It is a good thing that Rodney brought you back, and that you did not choose to wait for us,” Teyla says after a moment, her hand on Rodney’s shoulder.

“Damn Genii,” Ronon grunts. “I’d’ve gotten us out of there a lot faster if they hadn’t shown up.”

Carson claps a hand on Rodney’s back. “Teyla’s right. You made the right decision, Rodney. Thankfully, the bullet in his side went clean through, but he was losing a lot of blood.”

Rodney swallows, and feels himself pale a little, remembering. “Yeah, it uh… seemed like a lot at the time. I was worried.” 

He takes a deep breath to ground himself, seeking out John’s calm voice in the background before he even realizes what he’s doing. John is briefing Elizabeth, who’s just arrived to check on him, and then he’s thanking Carson for stitching him up, and making estimates on when he’ll be fit for duty again. And suddenly Rodney realizes something. He _did_ it; he doesn’t have to be worried anymore. He brought John back. He flew the jumper, he found John in the woods, he got them back here before John bled to death. 

He glances down at John—safe, warm, _alive_ —and feels a surge of happiness. All those times he saved Atlantis single-handedly were pretty great, but they have nothing on this moment. He lets out a long breath, his eyes never leaving John’s face. 

“Perhaps you should get some sleep, Dr. McKay,” Teyla suggests gently a moment later, and suddenly, Rodney remembers how long it’s been since he slept. He immediately feels a little unsteady on his feet. 

“Yes, I should… do that.” 

And then he turns on his heel, and walks out of the infirmary. 

He makes it to his quarters in a daze, and is asleep, face down on his unmade bed, before he can take off his boots. 

**

Rodney has no idea what time it is, but he knows it must be late, since the halls leading from his quarters are all but completely deserted. There’s a light on in the lab, but that’s always to be expected of Zelenka anymore. He’d probably be there with him if it wasn’t for the whole worst mission ever thing today.

He slumps into the chair next to John’s bed in the infirmary, watching him for a moment, and finally lets out the breath he’s been holding. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” John asks as he slowly opens his eyes, and turns his head towards Rodney.

Rodney shakes his head. “You?”

“Well, I’ve had some help,” John admits. 

Rodney just nods, not sure why he’s having trouble finding his voice, or any of the words he really should be saying right now. 

There’s a long moment of silence, which John spends staring at the ceiling, and Rodney spends with his eyes fixed on the blankets tucked under John’s arms. Something feels a little different between them now, and maybe it’s just because he’s tired, or because today was the most stressful he’s had in a month, which is really saying a lot, but he can’t tell if it’s a good different, or a bad different just yet.

“So did you mean everything you said out there today?” John finally asks. “Or was that just a clever way to get me back to base in one piece.” 

“Of course I meant it,” Rodney says, feeling a little insulted that John seems to be trying to give him a way out of this. “Do you really think you have to ask me that?”

“Just checking,” John explains, but his tone of voice doesn’t give away a thing--Rodney has no idea what John’s thinking and he really, really wishes he did, because he could really use some reassurance right about now.

When a minute passes, and John doesn’t say anything else, Rodney can’t hold back anymore. “Well, whatever, it’s not like it matters if I meant it or not, if it’s going to be like this. I guess I’ll be on my way--” 

“Rodney, I--”

“Whatever, okay, you don’t have to say it. I already know,” Rodney says bitterly. _Bad different, of course_ , he’s thinking, unable to curb his pessimism.

“What do you know?”

“I know a hell of a lot more than you do, I can tell you that.”

“Really,” John drawls, and Rodney kind of wants to hit him.

“Yes, really. Ask anyone.”

“I’m asking you.” 

“Well, that’s too bad, because I’m not talking about this anymore. I’m going back to bed.”

“Jesus, Rodney, look, I know I’m not very good at this, but can you at least give me a chance?” 

Rodney is startled, so he just stands there at the foot of John’s bed until John sighs, and meets his eyes. 

“Is it so hard for you to believe that I might be in love with you too?”

“What?” Rodney blinks, and when he processes John’s words, his voice is tight, and at least an octave higher than usual. “Yes? Yes. It really is. Sorry.”

“Come here,” John says, softly, and he’s moving, sitting up, looking at Rodney expectantly. “Sit down.”

Rodney does, even though some part of his brain is screaming at him that this is a very, very bad idea, because if he gets any closer to John right now, he’s sure he’ll do something that he won’t be able to explain away later no matter how hard he tries, or how many outs John gives him. 

“Kiss me,” John orders, and before Rodney knows it, he’s leaning over John, his palms on either side of John’s shoulders, staring at John’s face at an angle he’s never seen before, breathing John in, feeling John’s warm breath on his lips. 

“I… I don’t think I can,” he whispers, frozen, until John pushes himself up on his elbows, and their lips meet, and then suddenly John’s tongue is parting his lips, and slipping in, and then Rodney is just… lost. 

There’s something completely familiar, and completely surreal about feeling John’s stubble against his face, his nose, his lips, about feeling John’s hands slipping up and around his neck, pulling him closer. John’s lips are soft, they feel full against his, and his tongue is, well, he figures John has had a little more practice at this than him, maybe so that’s why it feels so good, and maybe that’s why, when John sucks on his tongue he actually feels himself _whimper_ , and probably loses more than a few brain cells in the process. 

When they break away a moment later, John is smirking at him as if he’s just gotten away with something. 

“Believe me now?”

“Yes?” Rodney says quickly, and then thinks again. “Maybe? No, no, I think, again,” he says breathlessly, and kisses John, feeling frantic and happy and a little dizzy. Relieved too, because for a moment there, he’d been constructing several convincing worst case scenarios to explain away everything that had happened today. Thankfully John’s lips against his kind of make those scenarios disappear pretty quickly.

“How about now?” John asks a moment later.

“No, definitely not yet,” Rodney says, wanting more, _more_. 

John raises an eyebrow. “This could go on quite a while. You seem to be kind of a hard sell, Rodney.” 

“Sorry,” Rodney says, not meaning it at all. 

“No complaints here,” John says, shrugging, as Rodney leans in for another kiss. “I’ve got all night.” 

“Oh, I think you’ve got a lot longer than that, really,” Rodney says, feeling the galaxy right itself in ways he’d only ever dreamed of before tonight, as he presses his lips to John’s again. 

After a moment he stops, staring down at John, and because he just can’t help it, asks, “So, first sight, huh? Really?”

John groans, and closes his eyes. “Rodney,” he warns. 

“I know, I know, I’m sure this isn’t the right time.” He pauses. “It isn’t, is it?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Fine.” 

“Great, glad we’re clear on that.” John chuckles, and then raises his eyebrows suggestively. “You never know though, kiss me like that again and maybe I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Mmmm,” Rodney says eloquently. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he whispers and then reclaims John’s lips before he can take anything back, kissing him, deep and hard and possessive, before John can even think about protesting. 

**end**


End file.
